


A Spark and a Flame

by ScarletEyesInTheNight123456789



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Alternate Universe - College/University, Gift Fic, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletEyesInTheNight123456789/pseuds/ScarletEyesInTheNight123456789
Summary: Some things are simply fated.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Kurapika, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60
Collections: Killua/Gon, Killua_and_Gon, Killugon, Killugon Fics, killugon





	A Spark and a Flame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [korns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/korns/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Oh My God, They Were Roommates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936418) by [korns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/korns/pseuds/korns). 



> Although this can technically be read on its own, this fic is inspired by a different fic called Oh My God, They Were Roommates. It's an excellent Killugon college AU, and I highly recommend reading that first in order to understand the context for this oneshot.
> 
> The bop: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dK2tDK9grQ

Once the idea strikes him, it doesn’t fizzle out. It persists. 

During lectures, the teasing brush of Killua’s hand against his is enough to scatter his mind into a million pieces. At night, when Killua’s breathing slows down to a steady pace, Gon’s heartbeat becomes a dance of unrest, the most vivid fantasies lulling him to sleep.

One day, while Killua’s in class, Gon voices his jumbled thoughts to Kurapika at their usual hangout (Starbucks, of course). Kurapika merely listens with his chin cupped in his hand. Afterward, he tells Gon to wait, slipping out of the establishment, only to return with a present that he claims will be useful for his particular dilemma. (Gon tosses it into his backpack with horror.)

Later that night, as Gon waits for Killua to arrive home from work, he lounges on his bed, taking a deep breath before typing out the text that he feels he was always fated to send.

 _01:58_ **Gon:** can i have a lap dance 🤤

As soon as that message is released into the universe, incapable of being taken back, Gon feels his face burn a brilliant scarlet. “Ugh. Why did I have to say it like _that_?”

He can imagine Killua right now on his bus ride, the moonlight catching the silver of his hair as the scenery passes him, blinking at his phone screen and wondering if Gon has finally managed to put a dent in his wine stash.

Three dots wiggle underneath the message for ten minutes, before disappearing entirely, and he can’t take it anymore. A wave of energy rushes through him at the thought of Killua being rendered speechless by that text.

He pounces off of his bed and runs to the living room, tossing Kurapika’s “present” (yes, he does plan on putting it to use) underneath the _kotatsu_ and dragging a chair to the middle of the carpet. 

Just as he plops into the chair, the door opens. Suddenly, he doesn’t know what to do with himself - to slouch or sit upright, to cross his arms or let them relax at his sides. (This is a lot more complicated than he expected).

They’ve only ever kissed before. The thought of Killua Zoldyck in his _lap_ both paralyzes and ignites all of his nerves. 

A fantasy is one thing. But the very real image of Killua standing there, steps away from closing the gap between them, is enough to shut down Gon’s vocal cords and set his lungs ablaze.

“So you really meant it.” In a few strides, Killua is in front of him, kneeling to meet his gaze. “You look terrified out of your mind.”

 _Those eyes_. It’s like the sky took everything it had - all its swirls of blue and melting swaths of indigo - and gave it to Killua.

“I’ve just . . . never done this before. Obviously! I mean . . .” Gon takes a deep breath, Killua’s presence driving him to the point of incoherence. “Just do a watered-down version of whatever you normally do. I’ll be able to handle it!”

Killua ducks his head, laughing under his breath. “Let’s see how that prediction pans out.” He takes off his black hoodie to reveal a white tank top, and pulls his phone out of the hoodie pocket. 

“What are you doing?”

Killua rolls his eyes, placing a hand to his lips. “Setting the mood. Shh.” Oh, phew. He’s not rereading that dorky text, then.

The song’s instrumentals open with resolute, flirtatious beats before ascending to a sultry thrum. 

Oh . . . right. Music. To set the mood. Because, dancing, because Killua’s about to - to dance - for _him_.

Killua slowly stands up, moving his body to the sensual lyrics, and Gon is mesmerized. Killua’s mouthing some of the words, running his hands through those silky strands of hair, running them over his chest in synchrony with the swaying of his torso and hips. 

_I’m in love with the shape of you_ , his lips read silently, bending Ed Sheeran’s song to his will. Would Killua be so graceful and unhurried, setting Gon ablaze with that smoldering stare, if he knew what Gon was planning?

Killua drops down in a smooth motion, Gon sucking in a breath as he does so, watching him thrust against the floor - maybe a foreshadowing of what’s to come?

He feels a blush caress his face, and Killua glides closer, circling the chair, examining him carefully for any signs that he might be going too far.

“ _We push and pull like a magnet do_ . . .” The singer commands the song with his voice, controlling the rhythm more than it controls him. 

Killua is in control too, because Gon wants him to be. He wants Killua to stand over him like this, positioning one leg against the inside of his thigh, and bringing the other to the back of the chair. His smooth lips brush against Gon’s neck, mouthing the lyrics, “ _And last night you were in my room, and now my bed sheets smell like you_ . . .” as the music’s tempo loses its grasp on reality.

“Killua.” Gon is panting now. “ _Te deseo_.” The statement falls from his lips in his native tongue, almost instinctively. He gathers a fistful of Killua‘s shirt into his hand, and provides a translation in response to his questioning look. “I want you.”

“ _Each day discovering something brand-new, I’m in love with the shape of you_.” The song’s crashing waves finally ease to a hush.

There’s still a question in Killua’s eyes. “I know.” He traces his thumb across Gon’s cheekbone, and his heart collapses in on itself. “Trust me, I do too. But let me know if you’re not comfortable with anything.”

“Deal.” Gon leans in for a kiss, but Killua pulls away with a grin.

“One more thing. Are you going to tell me why you keep looking at the _kotatsu_?”

“I - I wasn’t!”

Killua gives him a wry look, but Gon has grown _very_ weary of talking. He lifts the hem of Killua’s shirt, glimpsing lean muscle, and leans forward until their hips meet. 

A blue fire is burning in Killua’s irises as he watches Gon gently, hesitantly, grind against him through the fabric of both of their jeans. His skin heats up inexplicably at the unfamiliar sensation, at what it’s doing to him. 

“You’re right,” Gon says, gasping. “I have something for you.” He takes Killua’s hand and leads him to the _kotatsu_ , lifting the blanket up and flashing the box of Trojans at him.

Gon’s temporary boldness vanishes. He bites his lip, somewhat embarrassed.

Killua shakes with laughter, wrapping an arm around Gon’s waist and burying his head in his shoulder. 

“What?”

“I had no clue you were scheming behind my back this whole time. You should have said something before,” Killua says jokingly, his mouth now grazing the side of Gon’s neck. “You got the flavored kind too. Blueberry. Any particular reason for that?”

Again, Gon is through with talking. In an instant, Killua’s shirt ends up on the floor, and firm ivory muscles press up against him as Killua’s fingers linger at Gon’s hip. 

Then, Gon freezes. “On second thought, we can do stuff, but I don’t know about . . . about going all the way yet. Sorry, I just . . .” He feels his face redden, and looks away. God, he’s such a child.

“Hey.” Killua tilts his chin up so that their gazes collide. There’s something tender, but unwavering, in his expression. “Don’t apologize. This is your call.”

“You’re right, sorry. I mean . . .” He giggles at himself a little. 

Killua pulls his hand away, but Gon reaches out and drags it back to him, to the buttons on his pants. Gon undoes them himself, tugging Killua down until they’re both on the floor. He rests his head on the soft carpet, shivering at the mere fact that it’s Killua Zoldyck who’s on top of him.

Killua sears his way down his navel with open-mouthed kisses, until he reaches the area just between his thighs. “Is this okay?” Gon nods, breathless. 

His tongue dips and swirls, and Gon feels himself coming undone. Killua throws both of Gon’s legs over his shoulders, and Gon’s heartbeats stop following a set rhythm. 

Killua definitely knows what he’s doing. That much Gon is certain of. He licks a warm, wet stripe where he’s the most sensitive, making his legs tremble violently, before going all out - sucking, thrusting, laving. 

Gasps turn into moans, and moans turn into muffled screams. When he finishes, Killua’s holding his hand, his mouth glistening, his exhilarated eyes locked onto his.

“So.” Killua’s silver lashes are the color of the stars in the sky. He smells like sweat mixed with musky cologne. “How was that?”


End file.
